Chapter 12

Grant glanced at Faith across the campfire, and she met his look. The pounding of the rain made it too hard for small talk. But the smile in her eyes said she didn't mind the hardship of the weather. Maybe she was accustomed to traveling like this. Or perhaps she was simply relieved to be away from the trappers and back with an old friend whom she felt comfortable with.

He slid his focus to White Horse. The man kept his gaze roaming the trees around their camp as he ate. Not in a fierce way, almost absentmindedly as he chewed. But he missed nothing, Grant had no doubt of that.

Faith raised her voice over the rain as she turned to the brave. "How long do you think it will take us to reach the waterfalls?"

White Horse paused in his chewing, considering her words. "If rain stops, might be two sleeps."

Faith nodded, her gaze flicking to the rain outside their cover.

Two days wouldn't be bad. It was far less than if they'd stayed with Parson's group. White Horse would probably move faster, and Parson had spoken of stopping again tomorrow to put out traps and test how many fur-bearers lived in the area.

Grant swallowed his bite and looked to White Horse. "You said you know of the Shaheela River? Do you know how far it is from here?"

His brows gathered and his gaze turned distant. "Maybe one more sleep beyond."

And then likely longer to find Will once they reached the river.

But he was closer to his brother than ever before on this journey. He might even find Will within the week.

That thought sparked a hope inside him that not even bedding down on the wet ground could smother.

Grant jerked awake, then froze in the darkness, his senses straining. The rain had stopped, leaving the air around them still. Too quiet.

Something wasn't right. He'd not awakened with this sense of foreboding in a while.

His eyes had mostly adjusted to the starless night, and he could see the shadows of trunks all around their camp. A threat could be hiding behind any one of them.

Why had they selected this cluster of trees to sleep in? The trunks allowed cover for an intruder to approach so close he could strike them all in their sleep.

A few raindrops pinged on the oilcloth stretched over them. Moisture that had gathered on the pine needles above during the storm, no doubt.

He moved his gaze around the camp. A few coals still glowed from the fire, barely bright enough to show the rise and fall of Faith's shoulder as she slept. White Horse too appeared to be resting peacefully. Wouldn't his honed instincts have alerted him if there truly was danger?

Grant eased out a breath. Maybe he'd dreamed something that brought on this panic. He couldn't recall a dream, but that didn't mean he'd not experienced one.

He scanned the saddles and supplies they'd covered with a fur to protect them from the rain. In the shadows, something didn't look right with the stack. Was there a pack piled on top?

His heart picked up speed again as he slipped from his blanket and stood. He tucked his pistol into his waistband, just in case. When he crept closer, it was easier to see the jumble of fur heaped at the outside edge, as though someone had moved it aside to retrieve something from a pack and not pulled the covering back in place.

White Horse rose as Grant shifted around to the spot. He paused first to peer into the trees for signs of an intruder. No movement or unusual sounds.

The brave crouched down by the supplies. "Open."

Grant turned to him. "Which one?" But he could already see White Horse looking into the satchel where they kept the food. "Is anything missing?"

As he knelt beside White Horse, the man held the open bag toward him. Grant had been the one to pack these supplies away last night. He riffled through the contents on top. "Where's the flour? And the buffalo meat?" They were the last containers he'd put away.

White Horse stood, then moved outside the camp and peered at the ground. There should be tracks in the muddy ground, though they might be hard to spot with trees casting shadows on the ground.

A twig snapped behind him, and Grant whirled, his hand reaching for the gun at his waist.

It was only Faith, sitting up in her blankets.

He eased out a breath, releasing his hand from the pistol. He might have shot her if he was faster with his draw. Her sleepy look tugged at him, tightening his chest.

She rubbed an eye with one hand, the other going up to adjust the leather tie around her neck. He'd seen her do that a few times on this journey. She looked from him to White Horse. "What's going on?"

His belly tightened even more. She was so special, so delicate despite her strength and courage. He had to do a better job protecting her. Not allow something or someone to steal their food right under his nose.

He swallowed. "Some of our food is missing." He turned back to White Horse. "Find anything?"

The brave shook his head. "No tracks. Maybe see when light comes."

He frowned. "You don't know if it's animal or man?"

White Horse straightened and stared into the darkness beyond them. Then he turned and moved back to the packs, crouching to examine them. "No mark of claw. No bite."

Faith had woken fully, her eyes rounding. "You think it was a person?"

Grant scrambled for any other possibility. "Could it have been a coon? Are there other animals that use their paws like hands around here?" He'd seen more than one such creature in St. Louis extract food under the cover of darkness without leaving a sign.

For a long moment, White Horse frowned at the ground in front of the pack. Then he lifted his focus to Faith, though he was quiet for another moment. Something shifted in his eyes, a faint softening. He stood. "I will watch until light."

Grant glanced at the eastern horizon, though trees concealed the sky. He couldn't tell for sure, but the night probably had only another hour or two until dawn.

He nodded and turned back toward his bedding. He might not sleep, but hopefully him lying down would encourage Faith to do the same.

In the morning, they could determine exactly what had stolen their food. And if it was a man, he and White Horse wouldn't rest until they found the scoundrel. They couldn't let this threat come any closer to Faith than it already had.

From her saddle, Faith gazed out over the lush valley, her eyes tracing the path of the stream that meandered like a ribbon through the sea of grass. The rich blue of the sky stretched so vast and open it made her heart ache with longing. Grant sat on her left and White Horse on her right, all three of them pausing on this mountain pass to take in the view.

She eased out a breath as the beauty seeped into her soul, loosening the tension that had coiled within her all day. They'd found no sign of tracks around their campsite that morning, except for their own prints. No sign of what had stolen their food. Maybe it had been only a raccoon, like Grant said, creeping away silently with the food grasped in its tiny paws. Believing that eased the worry knotted inside her.

This view soothed her even more.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Grant's voice rumbled beside her.

She smiled. "It reminds me of the valley where our ranch is." How were her sisters faring in her absence? Juniper and Lorelei were both in the family way. Was Lorelei sick with the stomach illness like June? And was June faring better this time than she had when she carried little Bertie?

And oh, precious Bertie. A fresh yearning surged within her to curl her sweet niece in her arms, squeezing her pudgy rolls and breathing in her little-girl scent.

"Creator Father gives many good things." White Horse's voice broke into her thoughts.

Before she could glance at him, something like a snort sounded from Grant. She raised her brows at him, but he kept his focus ahead.

White Horse must have heard it too, for he said, "You do not believe Creator Father gives all this from love?" He motioned toward the bounty before them.

She looked back to Grant to catch his expression. His eyes had narrowed a little, sealing away his thoughts so she couldn't read them.

He gave a small shrug. "I wouldn't know."

That seemed to be all he would say, and it certainly left questions swirling in her mind. Had he not been taught about God? Or did he choose not to believe? Or maybe he was angry at the Almighty for some pain in his past.

Her own chest ached with that thought. She didn't let herself think much about God. Contemplating His actions only raised painful queries about His actions in her own life. Why had He allowed her mother to fade away so quickly? That had been the starting point of every painful change in the past six years. If God simply would have healed her, Papa never would have sold the ranch and moved them to Richmond. Then he wouldn't have been out on the street that awful night when he was struck by the carriage. He would still be alive. They would all be together still, living that wonderful life on the ranch.

White Horse once more broke through her thoughts, but this time it was a relief. He signaled for Grant to lead them down the pass and into the valley, and she guided Two Bit behind his horse so White Horse could bring up the rear as he had most of the day.

As they maneuvered down the rocky incline, Grant's strong profile drew her focus far too often. In truth, he was a welcome distraction. His broad shoulders held an air of quiet confidence, his hands guiding his mount with a gentleness that seemed one with the horse. His kindness showed in the way he stroked the gelding's neck when it stumbled over a rock.

Grant had extended that same quiet thoughtfulness to her more times than she could count along this journey. His growling was merely a front for the noble man beneath.

God, why must you place such temptation before me?She could do nothing to make him show interest in her, not unless he truly felt such attraction.

There were moments it seemed he felt this same pull between them. Like the night he'd shown her the stars. But so many other times he kept himself aloof. Last night, for example, when they were making camp in the rain. He'd barely spoken, as though they were little more than acquaintances. Was she wishing for something that simply wasn't there? Misinterpreting his acts of kindness?

"Faith?" Grant called out, turning to look at her with worry in his expression, as if sensing her internal struggle. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes." She nudged Two Bit faster down the last of the slope, heat rushing to her cheeks. She'd slowed him too much, creating distance between her and Grant. A subconscious way of protecting her heart?

"Good." He waited for her and White Horse to catch up with him, and his eyes softened for a brief moment before returning to the path ahead.

After allowing the horses to drink in the stream, they followed its route for about an hour. At the end of that valley, the once-gentle creek grew more turbulent as it fed into a wide river. A high cliff bank rose up along the water's edge on both sides, creating a canyon the current flowed swiftly through.

They all reined in near the edge, and White Horse dismounted. Faith glanced at Grant, who met her gaze with a shrug. They did what White Horse, their dauntless leader, did.

The horses dropped their heads to graze, and she moved to stand beside her old friend, with Grant coming up on her other side.

"Is this the Shaheela?" Grant's voice rose above the rushing water.

White Horse nodded, then pointed downstream. "We ride until sun sleep, then reach first falls when sun two fingers high."

In the morning, then. A thrill slipped through her. They might find Steps Right before noon tomorrow.

But ... she might not be at the first waterfall they came to. Faith had to prepare herself for a long search. She glanced at White Horse. "Are there other falls close to that one?"

The edges of her friend's eyes crinkled just enough to know he was laughing at her impatience. "I do not remember the distance. We know when see."

She nudged his arm and grinned. "You remember everything. You expect me to believe you don't remember how far apart the falls are?"

Before he could answer, a shout came from her other side.

She spun, just as Grant jumped over the edge of the cliff. His arms flailed as he sailed through the air.

"Grant!" Faith screamed, her heart surging to her throat. Panic coursed through her veins as he struck the water, then his body disappeared into the churning current below.

What should she do? She turned to White Horse, but he was already climbing over the edge.

"No!" She dropped to her knees to grab him, but White Horse lowered himself before she could grab him.

He swung from one handhold down to the next, within seconds reaching the thin path that ran along the water's edge. He turned to scan the water, and she shifted her focus there too. Had Grant been carried downriver? Had he hit a rock and drowned?

God, no!

As she searched the water, a head finally bobbed in the current.

Grant.

He was a little downstream from them, but not as much as she'd feared. Was he conscious? She couldn't tell for certain.

White Horse had already run down the narrow path beside the water, and now he leaped into the flow. His body disappeared beneath the surface for a moment before emerging, arms churning through the current in quick strokes.

God, protect them both.She could do nothing to help. Nothing except watch and pray.

White Horse swam toward Grant, using the current to his advantage. He finally reached him, and the two floated in the water for a moment. Talking, maybe? Grant shifted to fully look at the other man—the first sign to confirm he was alert.

White Horse grasped his arm and turned, then started swimming back toward the shore.

She had to get down to them. She needed to be there to help when Grant came out of the water. How much liquid had he swallowed?

She moved to her hands and knees and peered over the edge of the cliff, then scanned both directions for a place she could climb down.

There. She sprang to her feet and sprinted downstream to a narrow path the animals had made to the water. She slid her way down the steep trail and reached the bottom just as White Horse emerged from the water, half-dragging Grant.

She scrambled toward them to help White Horse lay Grant on his side on the thin strip of rocky dirt. His eyes were open, but glassy and not focused. His body heaved with every breath.

But at least he was breathing. Thank you, God.